Stepping Up To Love (Lakeside Porches 1) by Katie O'Boyle Read Free Book Online Page B

pass out. So I don’t need rehab to know I’m an alcoholic. And I don’t need detox because I’m not in withdrawal.”
    “And what does that mean? How do they know you’re not in withdrawal?”
    “I guess they measure blood alcohol level and look for symptoms like delirium something?”
    “Delirium tremens or DT’s.”
    “That’s it. Did you know you can die from alcohol withdrawal?”
    Joel nodded. “And who made the determination that you’re not in withdrawal?”
    “The doctor. One of the doctors I saw.”
    At Joel’s raised eyebrow, she explained. “A campus physician’s assistant went through a series of questions and tests for my physical condition in general and alcohol damage in particular, and then I was sent for blood work and to a gynecologist.” Manda dropped her eyes and focused on her plate.
    Joel sat quietly.
    Manda felt him watching her. She went back to her first topic. “And since I know I’m an alcoholic, I plan to go regularly to AA. I’m going to a Saturday night meeting with Tony and his girl this weekend.”
    “Tony will take good care of you. There’s a women’s meeting at seven tonight at the Presbyterian Church; I want you there. Ask around for Cassie.”
    Manda paused with a forkful of eggs halfway to her mouth. How would he know that?
    “Please,” he added.
    “Absolutely,” she agreed.
    “Are you pregnant?”
    “No.”
    He was so guarded right now, she wasn’t sure, but he seemed seriously relieved. She decided not to make a crack about how un-politically-correct his question was. “Then,” she continued lightly, “I visited the eye doctor, got a whole new prescription, and I get to pick up my awesome new glasses at eleven today.” She added, “Thanks for arranging that.” She was guessing about him arranging it.
    He didn’t deny it. He was intent on his omelet.
    She didn’t know how he could get dry toast down his throat. She layered more butter and jam on her croissant and saw him watching the procedure. She nudged the jam closer to him and followed it with the butter dish.
    “That is wicked,” he said. He spooned strawberry jam on his toast. “No fair smiling.”
    Manda let out a laugh and went back to her eggs. She savored the luxury of being fed breakfast. Two days in a row. Today she would keep it in her stomach.
    Joel, she noticed, was pushing a piece of omelet around on his plate.
    Eventually he made up his mind about whatever internal debate he was having and told her, “Your new roommate is thought to have substance abuse issues, maybe illegal drugs. It’s not for you to rescue her or to tell on her. I bring it up because it may not be a healthy situation for you. Apparently all three roommates left within the past month with no explanation, and they’re renting an apartment together, which is a pretty big unnecessary expense, so it must have been a bad situation for them. I’m banking on you not having a drug problem?”
    Stunned, she shook her head. Another un-PC question. She had to admire his strategy. He knew how to slip them in and get answers. But, she conceded, he did need to know the answer. She watched him chug his glass of orange juice, a total departure from his usual smooth style.
    “I mean it. If that apartment doesn’t work out for you, I need you to tell me, and I’ll find an alternative.”
    “Got it. Thank you.”
    “Did you talk to the police?” Joel asked.
    Manda’s hand jerked, and her fork flipped onto the rug. She ducked down to pick it up, set it on her plate and pushed the plate aside. “Yes, this policewoman Miriam interviewed me right after the substance abuse counselor. Another woman from the college was with us; I think she handles complaints about sexual harassment. They were both really kind. They asked hard questions, and they’re both really smart. I think the police are going to arrest Kristof. And they had me sign an Order of Protection so he can’t come near me. And they advised me to protect